


Trefoils, Sin Mints, and One Cute Cookie

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Jokes, Girl Scouts, Hopeful Ending, Internal Monologue, Kid Kim Yerim | Yeri, M/M, Meddling Kids, Meet-Cute, Park Chanyeol is a Little Shit, Single Parent Kim Junmyeon | Suho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Chanyeol hadn't known there were curiously attractive dads within a hundred-mile radius of his house, but when one comes knocking on his door with an spirited girl scout in tow, he can’t refuse to open his wallet...and maybe his heart too.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25
Collections: Effective Fest Round 2020





	Trefoils, Sin Mints, and One Cute Cookie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Effective Fest Round 2020!
> 
> Prompt #357  
> Junmyeon is helping his daughter go door to door to sell girl scout cookies. Chanyeol opens his door and his wallet immediately.
> 
> A/N: This is now the second fic I've written that pertains to cookies and a Red Velvet member shoehorned in there. AND WORSE, it's 3.4K words waxing poetic about Chanyeol thirsting for Junmyeon. AGAIN. 
> 
> If that's not your fancy, I hope you'll at least enjoy the terrifying nostalgia of seeing slightly-violent girl scout/girl guide bands wandering around the peaceful suburbs. Seriously, they don't joke when trying to sell things. 
> 
> It's a surreal experience being peer-pressured to spend money by nine-year-old girls.

He expected a solicitor, the scum of the earth. And it was that indeed, but in a way, the better kind.

The doorbell ringing in the middle of the day never failed to make Chanyeol’s gut lurch; made him wonder if he had—after all—evaded properly reporting his taxes years prior only to be faced with a greasy, scheming, mustache-twirling debt collector at his step if he dared open the door at a particular hour.

...No such thing had ever happened, of course. But a man could fantasize.

Using the built-in peephole carved into the entrance required him to stoop down to an awkward angle. Hence, it was like pulling a lottery really, greeting guests. Even so, it would never do to wait until they possibly left. The thought of that was simply too rude, and whatever he’d have to face he’d learn to deal with in time.

Suppressing a wave of ungrounded panic, Chanyeol’s ham of a hand fit snugly over the doorknob smudged with fingerprints, twisting it firmly to his imminent doom.

It was merely a girl however.

A harmless little girl of all things standing on the other side of his porch, a sash neatly pinned across her torso, and two twin buns peeking out from a floppy, green beret that sat snug on her hairline.

A thousand colorful patches; some frayed, with embroidered edges and raised words, ran up and down the slope of her shoulder to the curve of her waist, dotting a loop of creased fabric. A plain neckerchief wrapped around the column of her throat; green culottes covered her legs, shifting when she adjusted the berth of her stance.

Immediately, Chanyeol knew she’d qualify as a pleasant surprise, a blip in the midst of what had been otherwise one of his relatively uneventful days.

People visited him few and far with little more than poorly concealed economic incentive these days, yet she beamed at him while procuring the box of cookies in her grasp, eyes crinkling into a radiant smile.

His mouth betrayed him audaciously, it couldn't help but twitch back, tugging soon into a full-fledged grin.

“Good afternoon,” Chanyeol proceeded to say, swinging the door open wider. “How can I help you today?” he asked.

The girl shuffled around, the porch creaking as she did so.

“Hi, I’m Yerim. I’m a Cadette part of the local girl scouts troop...and we’re currently in fundraising season. Would you like to buy some cookies to support us?” she offered.

“Cookies?” Chanyeol parroted.

“Yes, cookies.” The scout, Yerim, couldn’t have been more than fourteen, her tinny voice confident and professional all the same.

She presented the Thin Mints in her hands, rotating the box in her grip to provoke much intrigue. From the wagon parked steps behind her—Chanyeol couldn’t fathom how that had gotten there—she swept her hand to gesture onwards, directed towards a precariously stacked mound of colored packages in similar fashion.

“They’re pretty tasty,” she announced lucratively, “and they go towards a great cause.”

“Really?” Chanyeol mused, leaning against the doorframe. At this angle, his elbow barely avoided lobbing off the poor girl’s head. “And what would I get, say... if I did purchase your cookies?”

He followed up by contorting his face into a playful, challenging look, messing around a little. It was always fun that came at no one’s expense.

“Well,” Yerim thought, gently tapping her foot. “You would get something.” Her lips bunched like a rosebud in focus, her prepared speech cut short by a cry behind her.

“Kim Yerim! Darling, where are you? Come down here at once! I found a better street for you to sell on a few blocks away, and you don’t need to bother whoever that is anymore!”

It was a man’s voice that happened to be trilling across the street. A gentle, lilting, almost-funny tone that had Chanyeol stifling a snort.

“Ugh,” Yerim paused, cringing. “Sorry,” she said apologetically, turning a hue of red. “That’s my dad. He’s being a weirdo again. This happens sometimes.”

“No need to apologize,” Chanyeol replied gently. “Tell him he can stand up here as well if he wants.” He gestured to the entrance mat placed snugly at the seam of the door’s foot. “There’s enough room.”

Whatever irritation had hung in the atmosphere was suddenly palcacted by the offer. “Oh okay,” Yerim said, her forlorn gaze vanishing. She swiveled slightly and shouted, “Dad! Come here!”

“No, Yerim!” the reply huffed back. “Let’s leave! We needn’t bother any strangers.”

“But dad!” Chanyeol watched the girl scout plead. “I am so close to selling this cookie stock I can feel it! I just need a little more time, please!”

The exchange was amusing, worth opening the doors for. Chanyeol let his gaze wander in the direction of the other voice.

“Dad!” Yerim cried again, stamping her shoe into the wood panelling beneath her foot. “I swear, please, please just come here for a little while. It won't’ take that long, and I promise, promise to sell these super-duper fast so we can be gone.”

A pause hung in the void of noise from the other side of the street. “Do you promise to be nice to that poor man?”

The ‘poor man’ in question, Chanyeol, laughed into the palm of his hand.

“Yes,” Yerim groaned, rolling her eyes languidly. “It’s not like I’m harassing anyone or something, dad. It’s just business.”

She turned to Chanyeol quickly, apprehension building.

“Am I harassing you, mister?”

In time, a man supposedly her father rounded the corner in a fast-paced stride. Chanyeol stopped paying attention long before she got the second syllable out.

Food never failed to pique his interest; magnetic attraction was something else entirely. The way the stranger walked was an enigma. The distinctive, almost trot-waddle of an old man as he made his way up onto the porch to join an exasperated Yerim. The pattering of his steps was so obscure, yet somehow strangely entertaining.

So this was Yerim’s father, who was deserving of a double, and triple take.

Staring at his open, friendly face, Chanyeol could tell the guy looked decently youthful, almost surprisingly young for a man who had a daughter of age and temperament. Obviously, he was a little kooky for wearing the tightest kind of bike shorts possible coupled with a figure-hugging tee that showed all the right bulges, but Chanyeol hadn’t complained.

Nobody wore that when venturing the streets, it was boggling in the best of ways staring at the ensemble.

It was no longer possible to deny the fact that whoever this person was, he was the amalgamation of all of Chanyeol’s turn ons. Slightly slicked-back hair, perfect complexion, eyes that curved up into crescent moons that the side, deeply grooved pockets on the guy’s outfit hopefully to house ludicrous amounts of cash. Despite the fact that perfection on two legs had a child next to him while Chanyeol was having a plethora of intense sugar daddy imaginings, he disregarded it.

Nothing mattered in the face of art calling to be lavished upon and appreciated.

The way the guy began to laugh nervously under his gaze upon being sized up. Absolutely freaking adorable.

If Chanyeol had been lukewarm before, he fully intended to buy those cookies now.

He made a show of leaning down to talk to a mildly affronted Yerim, almost kneeling to do so.

“How much are those cookies?” he asked.

“Five dollars…all the different kinds,” Yerim quickly added.

“Hmm…” Chanyeol pretended to think, pleased that the man in his peripheral vision was looking his way. His eyes travelled upwards, were momentarily dazzled by unparalleled beauty, and then dropped to the floor in a matter of seconds.

The father...no, the daddy’s cool stare, burned hot on the back of his neck.

“I’m not a fan of mint,” Chanyeol finally settled to utter, “it makes my stomach feel very strange.”

At the remark, Yerim pressed her eyes into flat, foreboding slits. “Well, we have tons of cookies left back at home, right, Dad?”

“Right,” the man at her side said crisply.

Chanyeol slid further into delirium.

Perhaps he was touch-starved, sex-famished, whatever perjortaive term he could come up with to roast himself at the top of his head. He still knew a catch when he saw one better than a fisherman themselves. If every one of the various critters in the ocean all looked like this beauty—somehow doing nothing but simply existing gorgeously—Chanyeol would be the first one down at the docks every day.

“Tons and tons of cookies,” daddy material said out of nowhere, poofing the rest of Chanyeol’s coherent thoughts into mist. “All the cookies you could ever imagine or dream of.”

Yerim let her father finish, and then turned to address him. “That’s right, mister, so you can have your pick of what you would like. Next time, we can bring some extra boxes when we make our rounds and we can stop by this house if you want,” she declared, patting the doorframe. “We’ll arrange a sale!”

Chanyeol’s brows suddenly found themselves lifting. “When do you make your rounds?” he asked, dampening the enthusiasm creeping into his voice.

“Once per week!” Yerim cleared her throat. “I mean, I could technically do it everyday, but then I would have nothing to do all summer, and it’s a cookie season, not a cookie week, I guess.”

“Yerim,” her father suddenly piped up, gently elbowing her side. “Let’s not bother this poor man any further. You can’t just cajole people into buying if they’re simply not willing.”

“It’s no bother,” Chanyeol said. It was the full, honest truth. “Look,” he said, shrugging and giving an excited Yerim a reassuring smile. “I’ll buy something of yours.”

“Really? Great! Thin Mints perhaps?” Yerim proffered, her face slowly lighting up.

“I was thinking maybe more along the lines of Trefoils...perhaps?” It was utter bullshit forming in his mouth, and he knew so. “I’ve been craving shortbread lately.”

The look that was returned to him made Chanyeol wonder if he had said something ghastly, or uniquely offending.

“You can’t possibly want Trefoils,” daddy material cried, face pinkening.

God, Chanyeol thought. How was he supposed to survive that display of enhanced charm? Yerim clenched her teeth, jaw slightly flexed.

“They taste plain, like a buttery ceiling,” sex on two legs continued, Chanyeol not daring to interrupt a voice so smooth it was music to his ears.

“Dad,” Yerim said pitifully, laying a small hand on her father’s arm. “You can’t fight this. That’s horrible, and the customer is always right.”

Chanyeol grinned as a literal fallen angel began to sputter in front of his eyes. “Do you have any Trefoils?” he settled for asking earnestly, faking obliviousness.

Yeri shook her head and chewed her lip after a bout of consideration, the very reaction he had intended for. “I know I didn’t put them in the wagon because nobody buys them,” she said, “but how many boxes do you want? I’ll find some way to get them.”

Chanyeol took a hissing breath.

“I’ll bring them to your door next week, and you can pay me the price now,” Yerim figured, kicking the porch with the toe of her shoe.

“Same time?” Chanyeol asked, eyes darting around. “I’ll humbly request six boxes of your finest cookie then, madame.”

He extended his hand, the fact that he was out thirty dollars doing little to phase him. Yerim shook his arm up and down, her own hand completely fitting inside the confines of his palm.

“It’s a deal,” she declared afterwards. “I accept cash and cheques. Thirty dollars.”

“Thirty-five,” Chanyeol suddenly corrected, surprising even himself. Daddy material made a short squeal of delight at the proclamation, and then and there, Chanyeol practically melted. “I’ll buy the Thin Mints off you too, how about?”

Yerim looked away guiltily. “They might be melted.”

“No,” her father spoke over her, one side of his face twisting into a knowing, lopsided smile. “They’re great. Completely dandy. Hunky dory.”

“Hunky dory,” Chanyeol laughed, disappearing inside his house to retrieve his wallet. He lingered in the kitchen for a short moment, mulling over if it was really those cookies he wanted and not...something else.

How pitiful to be buying snacks off a child when the biggest snack of all was right in front of his very eyes, so close and painfully unreachable all the same. Surely a kid implied a family, but it couldn’t hurt too much to ask?

Chanyeol returned to the door, his brow suddenly creased. He counted out a stack of crisp bills, lifting them from a battered denim pouch. As Yerim reached forth, wide eyes glimmering with the allure, he yanked it away, sharp and sudden.

“Oh,” Chanyeol cried, placing a wondering finger on his chin, loving the endearing way father and daughter flinched together. He feigned a troubled scowl. “I almost forgot one thing, how silly.”

“What is it?” Yerim asked, blatantly staring at the cash in hand instead of his face. “Is something wrong?! I’ll fix it for you right away, just tell me!”

Daddy material’s eyes narrowed into shining slits, perhaps, perceiving a threat? It was sweet how he wrapped an arm around his daughter, protectively shuffling closer to her.

He nearly felt bad for doing what he was about to do because of it.

Emphasis on nearly.

Chanyeol tried a blink. “The thing is…I’m not sure if I want to buy these cookies after all.”

It almost stung, playing it up so far when Yerim’s face dropped. Chanyeol could see the family resemblance, the striking porcelain good looks mirrored in both faces hovering in front of him, even as a pair of eyes crinkled and a lip extended stiffly.

“Why not?” Yerim asked urgently.

So he had a feisty girl on his hands. How darling.

“It’s only because I’ve ordered so many boxes,” Chanyeol explained pleasantly. “What if they don’t arrive on time?”

“Don’t fret! I’m a very responsible person,” Yerim declared, cutting him off. She turned to her father for support. “Right, Dad?”

“Yes, very responsible and very mature for your age too.” He ruffled Yerim’s hair affectionately, the latter letting out a squeal.

Chanyeol loved this family already. He’d bend over backwards and move the earth for them. Was it too forward to want to be part of them? It was dangerous merely entertaining the thought, but if he played his cards right…

“So, as you see,” Yerim said reassuringly, “I’m a girl scout, not a scammer, and I’ll put it upon myself to get your cookies to you on time, in good condition. Do you have any more concerns?”

His words pervaded him.

“Well...because I have such a special order, I was thinking…” Chanyeol’s lips quirked upwards. “Maybe I should get your dad’s number over here. Just so I can follow up on my order, of course.”

“I have my own number,” Yerim said, reaching for the back pocket of her shorts. The love of his life took that moment to meet Chanyeol’s gaze with a playful tilt of his chin.

Fuck.

He was worried.

Mostly worried that daddy material could probably see straight through his scheming, struggling ass.

Chanyeol momentarily panicked. “I’m not trying anything funny, I just want some extra reassurance and security. I don’t like giving out my money for these things so easily,” his subconsciousness helpfully blurted in place of properly thought out, eloquent speech.

The nod that followed was the slowest moment in the history of existence.

Yerim batted her eyes, retracting her fingers from the pink plastic of her phone case. “Well, absolutely, if it makes you feel better then. Dad, give him your number right now.”

“And a name too,” Chanyeol quickly had the mind to add. “I need a name to attach to this lovely face.”

Throwing the praise on at the end had been a good idea. Did Chanyeol imagine the blush dusting rounded cheek apples just then, or had daddy material really? He’d dole out praise for the rest of his life to no end, if it meant he’d get to see that delicious reaction again.

“Junmyeon. It’s Junmyeon.”

“Junmyeon and Yerim,” Chanyeol repeated, forming the syllables in his mouth while sliding his own phone out of pocket. “Good to meet you both.”

What a delight daddy material was, hands that looked like they must have been soft reaching out to take the brick of glass and metal from his own grasp. Fingers deftly pecked away at a small keypad, forming a number Chanyeol was probably close to adding an unwarrantedly gushy emoji to in his Contacts app later.

“Here,” Junmyeon said. He had no right to look as effortlessly irresistible as he did, a lock of hair escaping to dangle over his forehead as he returned the phone.

He was doing things, knowing exactly what effect they would have on Chanyeol, the latter making rigorous mental notes to not be so aggressively obvious in his pursuit of good-looking humans any longer.

Their fingertips brushed in the exchange of items purposely, lingering just for the slightest second as to not cause any discomfort. The skin of Chanyeol’s hand where it had touched Junmyeon’s suddenly grew hot.

How would those hands feel on other parts of him? Raking over skin? Clasped tightly over his own? Held up, prone to sliding an ornate ring over one of those knuckles...he was definitely getting ahead of himself there. That was a gulp-inciting thought.

“You two look like you’re about to kiss,” Yerim said brusquely, duly reminding Chanyeol of her existence, and his long-suppressed hatred for kids. She passed him the green box of Thin Mints; his now. “Don’t kiss right here, please. That’s gross.”

Junmyeon ignored her. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir,” he said, the words dripping out of lips that looked increasingly inviting. He slapped on a wink, and Chanyeol’s breath fluttered.

Pleasure indeed. Wasn’t chocolate...wasn’t mint an aphrodisiac? Chanyeol’s throat was suddenly parched, and he swallowed down hard.

“You mind?” Junmyeon suddenly cut in, turning to a disgruntled Yerim, all but communicating this was a somewhat common occurrence.

“Dad,” she said. “The last guys were lame.”

“If I used this number to ask you out on a date,” Chanyeol said, feeling his chance slip out of his clutch like a palm of sand held in splayed fingers, “what would you think?”

“Yerim,” Junmyeon said again, this time hopefully rhetorically.

“...Well...he did buy cookies,” Yerim relented, defeated and sorrowful.

There was a long, searing pause.

“I’d say the customer is always right, then,” Junmyeon finally muttered. “You’re not bad-looking at all, in case you haven’t picked that up. I hope I’m not overstepping, but Yerim doesn’t seem to hate you. So if you’re willing, I more than want to.”

Chanyeol had approximately twice the amount of ear of any other normal person, yet he found himself struggling to hear. “Wednesday next week,” he stuttered, preparing to shuffle the calendar's plans around.

Junmyeon nodded, face cracking into a grin that was so lovely to see.

Chanyeol nearly sputtered out his exhale.

“I’ll text you,” Junmyeon said, the tone in his voice more fond than any of them cared to admit.

“Is that all?” Yerim began to complain.

Children, the biggest cockblock. Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to care, riding out the rest of his post date-landing in euphoria. He’d be getting close to this one soon, hopefully. He’d already grown an annoyingly soft spot for her somehow.

“Ready to go?” Junmyeon said.

“You better be nice to my dad,” Yerim threatened, the weight of the words stifled when delivered from someone who fared better talking to his chest. “I’ll see you with the Trefoils next week.” She turned to grab the handle of her wagon.

“You bet,” Chanyeol affirmed, the girl’s face softening, satisfied. Junmyeon beckoned her his way and Yerim followed, throwing another wary glance.

He’d work on it.

Junmyeon winked with parting, a promising action. “Wednesday,” he said, his words sounding like a vow.

“Bye,” Chanyeol responded.

They climbed down the porch together, walking the expanse of the driveway. Chanyeol waved all the way, all throughout as his newfound favourite family departed into the distance to be missed sorely for another half-week.

He hadn’t even minded that Junmyeon trampled the grass on his way out. The realtor had said the lawn was in dire need of care, not ferocious stamping and people walking all over the abused, trodden grass.

Looking out from the door with a mouth already smeared with crumbs and chocolate, Chanyeol decided he really had no right to complain.

The backwards view he got...that was pretty good too.

**Author's Note:**

> The prominent daddy jokes have made finishing this fic impervious to anyone without crude taste...but hello! Nobody told me to do this, but here's where I give a tiny speech out of gratitude! I had great fun writing this one!
> 
> Mods - Don't tell any other mods, but I'd travel the world and back to kiss the mods. They were just so nice and involved...they're quickly snatching the title of the best mods currently active. 
> 
> Beta - THANK YOU SO MUCH. You stay superior, yes you do. Always keep your head up even when looking for jiddies, your crown needs to balance on your head forever and ever. And to the cow Junmyeon person, if you ever read this, thank you for cheering me on and brainwashing (I mean, slightly influencing) me to become a SuYeolist!
> 
> Prompter - The prompt was very...effective, hehe. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
